Ephemeral Permanence
by Ticklefish
Summary: Captain Wesker never allowed office romances. Shame he couldn't follow his own orders.. Chris/Wesker, please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

Ephemeral Permanence

by Ticklefish

dedicated to Barb

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><p><em>FOREWORD:<em>

_Eleven chapters...my word, that's a bit more than I had in mind when I started this. No wonder it's taken me so long to write._

_This story may be eleven chapters, but they're not very long and they do all tie into each other. Please do read all of them before you reach the end, otherwise the ending won't make anywhere near as much sense._

_I took a lot of time and care writing this and I'm fairly proud. But then, I wrote it so I'm more than a little biased. Have fun reading it and don't forget to leave a review!_

_p.s. Each chapter (apart from this one) is divided into two parts. For the life of me, I can't figure out how to get any decent spacing around the horizontal ruler dividing one part from the other but it's in there, I promise. Just bear with me, it'll make more sense once you read it. _

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><p>I'm not sure how I got here.<p>

I remember the heat, the noise and an overwhelming feeling of power.

I was about to finally claim my victory. They'd foiled my plans but I could always rebuild and try again. All I needed to do was to kill them.

Kill him.

Kill him once and for all.

He'd been a thorn in my side for longer than I cared to think about but now I had him.

I had him!

I was in incredible pain and not thinking straight but I knew that much.

I had him!

I bloody well had him!

Then there was a sound.

A whooshing sound.

No.

Two whooshing sounds, so close together they were almost one.

Getting louder and louder.

And then.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Until I ended up here.

Shame I've no idea where 'here' is.

A short glass is placed in front of me. It's filled almost to the top with something pale and deceptively innocent-looking.

"Drink up, Albert. You look like you could use it."

The voice is familiar as are the carefully manicured fingernails on the hand still holding the glass. I can't place either though. Something isn't quite right, my mind seems to wrapped in gauze. I can't think straight. Alcohol is probably the last thing I need right now.

The right thing would be just to ignore it.

I've never been good at doing the right thing and the spirit burns its way down my throat.

"Feeling better?"

I say nothing. Never volunteer information until you know the situation. That's what they told me and I was always a good listener.

Though I can't think who they are right now.

A gentle laugh comes from above me and the woman sits down in front of me, placing her drink on the table. The glass is tall, the liquid a transulcent green with a carmine stirrer sticking out of it. I notice that the stirrer is almost standing straight up, suggesting that the drink is very thick and that the drinker will most likely be very drunk by the end of it. I start to plan how to use that to my advantage, though I don't know why. I've always done it.

Plan ahead to keep your head.

Another mantra rising out of the mists of my mind.

The woman leans forward and I can almost feel my mind being wrenched onto a different track. Her dress is open from her neck to somewhere below the edge of the table, revealing more of her breasts than it hides. They're noticably large and firm, the skin a very pale shade of brown. I can't see her nipples but, as I look, they make themselves known through the fabric of her dress.

I can feel myself getting aroused which is a bit of surprise. I haven't been with a woman since..since..actually I don't know. I'm sure I have. I must have done. But it just seems so unimportant. I know this woman is attractive, or at least the part I'm looking at, but as I think about it, I can feel my lust fading.

No, not fading. Changing. I think again about how she will probably be drunk soon and how I can manipulate that to suit me.

Power.

That's it. That's why I can't remember being with a woman.

Women don't interest me. I'm interested in power. Control. Domination. Sex is just a physical act, partaken in by ignorant apes who don't know any better. The real fun, the real joy, comes in using the brain and bettering others.

So why do I feel like I've never really had fun?

"They're real, you know."

She's laughing at me. I'm still staring at her cleavage, although it now holds no interest for me. I can feel myself blushing and try to force it down. I don't blush. I don't feel shame or embarrassment or guilt. I do what I want and to hell with the consequences.

I blush anyway.

"I always knew you liked me." she says, looking at me through half-closed eyes. Her lashes are long and look expensive.

"That's very perceptive of you." I reply.

I was careful to keep my voice neutral. Compliment the enemy, a distant voice in my head commands. Let them think they're better than you until you've got control of the situation and you can prove them wrong.

It was good advice. Instinctively, I knew that I couldn't trust this woman. I didn't trust people other than myself anyway but there was something at the back of my mind that made me even more cautious than normal.

She rests her elbows on the table and laces her long fingers together. As she does so, she leans forward allowing me a clearer look at her barely concealed cleavage. It has no effect on me.

"I don't need perception, Albert. A woman can always tell."

"Humph."

I say nothing more, hoping to give the impression of disdainful superiority, but in truth I really have no idea what to say.

I have no idea what's going on.

I don't even know who this woman sitting opposite me is, although clearly I should. My memory is usually perfect, my brain being far superior to the normal drones.

But I just can't think straight. The brandy has cleared the cobwebs from my mind, but there doesn't seem to be anything else there.

The woman sighs and sits back in her chair. She's obviously realised that her charms are having no effect on me. As she sips her drink, I take the opportunity to take a look around. I have at least a few seconds before she inevitably attacks.

I'm in a bar.

I think I'm in a bar.

It would explain the alcohol and the table and chairs but I just can't seem to make out any details around me. Like a dream fading before the morning sun, I know that there are things here but my mind refuses to concentrate on the details.

"Why did you do it?" she asks.

A loaded question. I've done so much over the years. Until I know who she is, I can't give anything anyway.

"Because I wanted to." I reply in my most non-committal voice.

"Was it worth it?"

Her glass is now empty, a light green showing on her top lip. She takes a napkin and dabs at her mouth.

"Yes, it was worth it." I say.

Well, the chances were it probably was.

Whatever we were talking about.

"I've always wanted to know," she asks, staring at the napkin in her hands, "did you mean to do it right from the beginning?"

I hate to admit even the slightest amount of ignorance but this is going too far.

"Do what?" I demand, starting to get annoyed.

"Kill S.T.A.R.S."


	2. Chapter 2

Ephemeral Permanence

by Ticklefish

dedicated to Barb

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><p>"And what do you think you would bring to the unit?" I asked, sighing inwardly.<p>

It was a generic question and would almost always get a generic answer. Especially from people like the man sitting opposite me.

"I would bring dedication and commitment," he replied, naming two qualities that were basically the same, "I work the job, not the hours."

To be honest, anyone who says they stop working dead on five when there's still plenty to do is clearly too stupid to hire anyway.

He continued in much the same vein for a while. I nodded sagely and pretended to make some notes. I had heard it all before and had pretty much made up my mind a few minutes into the interview.

My mind wandered and I found myself wondering what the refectory was serving today. It'd probably be meatloaf again. I was beginning to really despise meatloaf.

Eventually, the interview wound to a close. I had asked a few more standard questions, gotten some standard replies and had checked every box on the form. The man shook my hand, then the Chief's and left.

I didn't know why I bothered inviting him in the first place.

"Huh," said Irons, "well that was another big waste of my time."

Despite my dislike for the man, I couldn't help but find myself agreeing. Our latest interviewee had been a pilot with the Air Force. His record had "insubordination" written all over it. Apparently, he was good at his job but terrible at taking orders. 'Wasted potential' was how one of his superiors put it. Not the sort of person I wanted in my unit.

Irons stood up and dusted off his pants. It was purely for show, I kept my office meticulously clean.

"Captain," he said in a contemptuous tone, "next time you want to interview some up-himself flyboy, don't bother having me along."

The Chief of Police and I never got along. Technically, he was my superior but he and I both knew that wasn't the case. I was there at the behest of my real superiors, the bosses at Umbrella Corporation and there wasn't much he could do about it. They gave him a pretty hefty bribe on a regular basis which kept his mistress happy but some small part of him hated the idea of being somebody's pet and it was always me who bore the brunt of his dissatisfaction.

"Chief, he came with a high recommendation. I couldn't not interview him, he could have been a valuable addition to the team."

"The 'team'?" he snorted with derision. "That bunch of misfits? I don't know why you're taking valuable space in my station with your so-called 'team'."

He narrowed his eyes and turned to me with a suspicious look.

"In fact," he continued, "I don't even know why they exist in the first place. Why haven't we got a SWAT team like normal people? What are you people up to?"

I leant back in the chair and tried to look relaxed.

"The whole point is that S.T.A.R.S. isn't your standard S.W.A.T. team. We're trying to make a difference in this city. If I'd wanted a bunch of thugs who'd come in and shoot first and not bother asking questions later..well..S.T.A.R.S is a unit that can use its brain as well as its brawn."

Irons looked unconvinced but he stopped narrowing his eyes.

"Its brain? So far, 'Captain'," he spat out my title as though it left a nasty taste in his mouth, "I've yet to see anything that suggests it even has one. Your so-called unit is nothing but a waste of money."

I drew in breath to object but he didn't give me the chance.

"Look, I'm no fool. I know where my money's coming from and, as far I'm concerned, you pencil-necks can do what you want. But you're wasting your time with this. You're better off going back to that fancy mansion and leaving the police work to the police."

I bit back a response. I knew now Irons was deliberately trying to push me and I was determined not to rise to the bait.

"Thank you for your input, Chief." I said, trying to remain calm as possible. "I'll take it under advisement."

"'Take it under advisement'? Jesus.." Irons walked to the door and grasped the handle. "Look, pal. You can do what you like, it's your funeral. But I'm a cop and have been for years. A real cop unlike some. If you want to play games with your toy soldiers, you leave me out of it."

With that, he left.

I seethed. Once again, he had managed to get to me. No matter how hard I tried to remain calm and objective, he always found a way to wind me up.

I pulled the form towards me and took a pen in my hand. It was a minor act of rebellion but, at that point, it made me feel very happy.

There were two blank spaces at the top of the piece of paper. One had just two boxes. 'Hire' and 'Not Hire'.

Imagining the Chief's face, I checked the 'Hire' box and chuckled.

The final thing I did was to fill in the final part.

Holding the pen carefully, I took great pleasure in writing the applicants name, speaking it out aloud as I did so.

"Christopher...Redfield.."

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><p>"Your boss was a bit of a nasty piece of work, wasn't he?"<p>

"He wasn't my boss. Besides, he's dead now." I add in an off-hand fashion.

Instantly I regret it. I still don't know where I am but clearly I'm vulnerable and, until I know more, there's a real danger in giving away too much. For all I know, this woman could be a relative or a friend. Or one of Iron's 'special' friends that he prided himself on collecting.

"Did you kill him?" she asks, a smile teasing at the corner of her scarlet lips.

Not a relative then.

"Yes. I put a bullet through his eye."

A lie.

I've no idea what happened to Chief Irons, or at least I think I don't. My mind is still not working at its peak. But there was no way a bloated pig like him could survived the city. If he hadn't been turned, he would have been eaten. Either way, he'd be radioactive dust by now. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

I lie anyway. There's no harm in reminding her I can, and will, kill when I wish to. A person's life belongs to me by right. It is a gift from me and it is mine to take away at will. If ever I meet Irons again, I would have no hesitation in ripping his spine out with my bare hands so it's not that big a lie anyway.

She lets out a short laugh and again I wonder who she is. I should know, her face is familiar, her voice is familiar, even her crudely-exposed body rings a bell somewhere in my brain. But when I search my memory, there's just nothing there. My mind is a blank.

At some point she must have refilled my glass. There's no hesitation this time. I drink and the glass becomes empty again. The alcohol has no effect on me, it never does. Not anymore.

"So that was the first time you met Chris?"

I nod.

"Ironic really," she says, "you hired him to get back at your boss.."

"He wasn't my boss." I interrupt.

"But if you hadn't hired him, you wouldn't have had so much trouble later on."

I stay silent.

"After all, if it wasn't for Chris, those worms of yours would be everywhere by now."

I continue to stay silent.

"I'll be honest though," she continues, "I never quite understood just why you hated him so much. Even before that."

Again, I say nothing.

She has no idea.


	3. Chapter 3

Ephemeral Permanence

by Ticklefish

dedicated to Barb

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><p>It was at the firing range.<p>

Chris had been with us for a while now and, despite my initial misgivings, had settled in quite well. He did what he was told and he worked hard. It was as though this was the chance he had been waiting for. I wanted to tell Irons, to rub his face in it, but we hadn't seen much of each other since that interview. True to his word, Chief Irons was leaving the team to do its own thing.

It was exhilarating to have so much power and so much freedom. At the same time, it was terrifying. S.T.A.R.S. was my idea and if it didn't succeed, it would be my head on the chopping block.

It was Burton, one of the older unit members, who had originally suggested Chris apply to the unit and it had been one of his best ideas. Not I could ever have told him that, of course.

My superiors in Umbrella had instructed me to have an aloof manner with my men. They assured me that this would result in the team respecting me without getting too close. The team had to acknowledge me as their leader without question.

Plus, keeping them at a distance meant they were less likely to discover that I worked for the corporation and not the force.

It was at the firing range where that started to go wrong.

Chris and I were the only two there. I was trying to work on my aim and Chris seemed to be practising his fast-draw skills. I let it go, there didn't seem any point in upbraiding him and I had other things to worry about.

My gun was custom-made by a man in the city. It was powerful but had an extraordinary kick and was noticeably heavy. No matter what I tried, I couldn't convince the thing to send bullets where I wanted it to. The paper target at the end of the range was pristine and untouched. The wall behind it, on the other hand, was definitely suffering.

I could have used a lighter weapon but it was part of the look. I was Captain Wesker, I was in charge of a disparate collection of men and women, there was no way I could use anything less than the most powerful hand-gun available.

It was the same reason behind my sunglasses. I'd always worn sunglasses, I liked the look. But it had become a significant part of 'Captain Wesker's Look' and there was now no way anybody could be allowed to see me without them. It was another reason why my aim was suffering. It was dark enough in the range as it was.

"Having trouble, Captain?"

Chris had paused in the middle of re-loading his gun and was looking at me with a quizzical, slightly amused look on his face.

"These sights need adjusting," I quickly improvised, "remind me to take Kendo to task about it."

"Yes sir."

He slammed the clip into his pistol and returned the weapon to the holster at his hip. He faced away from the target, paused for a second, then a second more and spun back, pulling out the gun as he did so. In one smooth movement, he aimed, fired three lightning-quick shots and put the gun away again. The whole thing had taken the barest fraction of a second.

I looked at the target. There were three neat holes. One in the groin, the heart and between the eyes. His aim had been perfect. Without thinking, I let out a low whistle of appreciation.

"Not bad, Redfield." I said trying not to sound too impressed.

He pushed a button on the wall and a faint grinding noise signaled the target being pulled up the range towards us.

"Oh, I can do better." he replied, sounded annoyed with himself .

He frowned in thought for a second and then declared that he could be even faster without his shirt on as the fabric was getting in his way. His shirt was untucked and had long sleeves so I could see his point but before I had a chance to comment, he had pulled it off and stood analyzing the target that had now arrived in front of him.

"Right." he said after a moment and tore the target off the holder, put a new one in its place and sent it on its way back down.

His gaze was on the target and I realized to my shock that I was holding my breath.

In fact, I'd been holding it ever since Chris had taken his shirt off. He was clearly no stranger to the gym and his chest was a finely sculpted piece of muscle. There was no noticeable fat and only the faintest dusting of chest hair. Standing there with his hand on his hip and a determined, focused look on his face, he resembled nothing more than a Greek god. I was surprised and more than a little astonished.

And very glad he wasn't looking at me. I doubted I had the superior look of a leader at that moment.

Again, he faced away from the target, psyched himself up and turned to deliver three surgical shots to the hapless piece of paper a few meters away.

"What do you think?" he asked of me with a proud expression on his face. "Faster, yes?"

I had no idea. My mind was in a state of shock and I was still trying regain control of it. Regain control of myself.

"A little." I admitted.

I turned away and started walking towards the exit, fighting the urge to run.

"But your aim still needs some work." I added over my shoulder.

* * *

><p>"Hmm..so he wasn't a bad-looking specimen even then, eh?"<p>

"He was a worm. He was beneath me."

So you didn't check him out then?

I am about to reply when I realize that she had not spoken. Those last few words had come from somewhere else.

I am confused. I don't know where I am or what is going on but I know I don't like it. I'm not in control and i need to be. I am always in control.

I never should have told her. Never tell your enemies anything about you, they always said. And everyone is an enemy sooner or later.

The woman grins over her glass. It is once again full, although this time with a blue liquid that reminds me of antifreeze.

"I would have liked to have seen him with his shirt off," she says, "I wonder if he is a good lover.."

She rolls the 'r's on her tongue and a mental image of the two of them together rises unbidden to my mind. I'm disgusted.

I get up to leave.

"Where are you going?" she calls after me.

I don't reply and keep walking.


	4. Chapter 4

Ephemeral Permanence

by Ticklefish

dedicated to Barb

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><p>"Where are you going?" asked Chris.<p>

I didn't reply and kept walking.

Sub-ordinates shouldn't question their superiors. It was an excellent question though, Chris's questions normally were. He had a very sharp mind.

We had, until I decided to get out, been in the back of a van together. But not alone. It had been me, Chris and several thousand dollars worth of surveillance equipment. We were hidden in the shadows a few meters down from a suspected drug-dealer. He had come home two hours previously and by all accounts was fast asleep.

I wished I was fast asleep.

I leant against a tree and took a cigarette out of the packet. I was trying to quit but it wasn't working. Having a job with a pharmaceutical company gives you a nasty insight into what chemicals can do to a body and I had long since sworn that I would never let anything into mine. I took a drag and ruefully shook my head.

There were times when you just needed a smoke.

If anyone asked, anyone who wasn't working under me that is, I would have said that I needed to get some air.

Which is partially true. It gets very hot and airless in those vans, Bravo Team had nicknamed them sweatboxes, a frivolity I was trying to stamp out.

But if I was honest, if I was really honest, it wasn't that at all. It was him. It was the man I was sharing the space with.

It was Chris Redfield.

I checked to see if anyone was looking and took off my sunglasses. I looked like an idiot with them on at 3 in the morning anyway. I rubbed my eyes and tried to get the vision of him out of my head.

He was in uniform and was doing nothing at all untoward but I kept finding my glance drifting towards him. I gazed at his sweater, remembering that chest I saw the other week. I looked at his arms, imagining the muscle. I stared at his face, at his eyes, at his jaw, at his lips..

I began to imagine those lips pressed against mine..

That's when I had to get out.

I was his commanding officer. No, I was in charge of the whole unit. I couldn't allow myself to have these thoughts. I needed to be stronger, more resilient. He was my sub-ordinate, I was his captain, that was all there was to it.

I could still smell his cologne.

I couldn't think this way. And with a man as well. A man, for pity's sake. Oh, if it was a woman, everyone would understand. They'd still think I was losing my authority but they'd laugh it off.

"Oh, Al's finally found himself a girl." they'd say and they'd laugh.

But laughter fades. I'd prove myself, the unit would be a success and they'd eventually forget about it.

But a man.

A man would ruin me.

I couldn't think this way. I just couldn't.

But I did.

God help me, but I did.

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><p>I'm walking but I can't feel the ground. I know there is ground there and I have no difficultly crossing it but I just can't feel it.<p>

This is ridiculous.

No, this is worse. This is stupid.

I hate stupid.

I feel angry and I luxuriate in it. The anger is an old friend and I welcome it back with open arms. I feel it sweep aside my confusion. I still don't know where I am or what is happening but I no longer care.

I am Albert Wesker. I am the supreme human being and I shall rule this place and crush whoever thinks they can run it instead.

But something's wrong. Something's terribly, deeply wrong. I feel angry but I don't feel the rage. The incandescent rage that used to fuel me, that I had honed to a sharp edge. I dig deep but I can't bring it on anymore.

I am angry but nothing else.

Something is missing.


	5. Chapter 5

Ephemeral Permanence

by Ticklefish

dedicated to Barb

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><p>The second night I tried to go missing. I juggled the roster as much as I could to find anybody, anybody at all, other than myself to partner with Chris. But everybody was busy, on one assignment or another. They were all doing important work and I couldn't justify pulling them off it.<p>

If I did, they'd be bound to ask questions.

I couldn't afford questions.

So we were back in the same van together. Both of us in a small, closed environment listening to a man snore.

The police force work hard to instill a sense of glamor into its profession. Sign up, get a neat uniform, serve and protect, be the envy of all your friends. They try to paint a picture of excitement and daring adventure. Every day, so they say, is another action movie waiting to happen.

It's not true.

Being a cop, even in a high-risk unit like ours, involves a lot of sitting down. Sitting down and waiting for something to happen.

By half past two, nothing had happened. A stray dog had tripped a sensor at 01:22 and we had stared at it numbly on the monitor. It was black with a short tail.

Chris stayed quiet, saying only what was needed. I normally admired that in him but that evening I found myself longing to hear his voice. And then longing to see his chest again.

So I stayed quiet, trying to look serious but trying even harder to get visions of the man out of my head.

Half past two was when it happened. There was a clunk and a beep as the tape recorder signaled it had run out of room. I got up to reach over for a new cassette from the packet. So did Chris. We bumped into each other

I quickly realized that I had been sitting badly. My left leg had gone numb, there was no feeling in it at all and it gave way taking me with it. Chris was already off-balance and we fell with a thud onto the van floor.

For a moment, all I could think about was the pain in the back of my head but, as it faded, I became aware of a pressure on my groin. Chris had landed on his bottom but had put out two hands to try to stop himself. One hand was on a console..the other was on me. His palm was resting directly over my penis.

He pushed himself him up and swore.

"You alright, Captain?" he asked me.

For a moment, I was stunned. Where his hand had been there now was the unmistakable feeling of a growing erection.

"Of course, I'm alright." I snapped "I'm not the one who can't watch where he's going."

"Sorry Captain," he said without any noticeable contrition, "it won't happen again."

I growled and got back to my seat. I tried for all the world to look like the tough captain unimpressed by his blundering colleague but inside I was dazed. I kept thinking back to how his hand felt against me, even through the layers of clothes.

My erection did not go away for quite some time.

* * *

><p>I have been walking away for quite some time now trying to work out exactly what is wrong with me. I feel slow, sluggish, my brain isn't working as well as it does normally. There are too many gaps in my memory and I can't seem to make out the details of anything around me.<p>

My brain may not be up to its usual standards but I am still smarter than most. I am a genius and I can feel my mind knitting together the clues, collating and examining. I will have my answer soon.

It isn't concussion and I can't be on any form of hallucinogen.

They don't work on me.

This is all very strange and I hate it.

I see her in front of me.

I hate her more.

She's still at the table, she hasn't moved, Somehow I've walked in a circle.

She looks happy to see me which I instantly find suspicious.

No-one looks happy to see me.


	6. Chapter 6

Ephemeral Permanence

by Ticklefish

dedicated to Barb

* * *

><p>"Albert!" the man in the lab coat smiled and extended a hand. "What on Earth brings you back here?"<p>

I couldn't help but smile in return and shook his hand warmly.

"Hello Will," I replied, "You do remember paging me, don't you?"

"Well yes, but I was expecting you to ring not trek all the way up to the mansion."

I shrugged.

"Oh, I figured I would. It's been a while. Besides.." I lowered my voice to a whisper. "This is about 'It', isn't it"

Aside from ourselves, the lab was empty but I didn't want to take any chances. What we were working on had the potential to make us famous, not to mention very, very rich.

He smiled again and by way of reply took me to a nearby table. As with the rest of the laboratory surfaces, it was covered with papers and equipment. William was a brilliant scientist but he was often too busy pushing back the boundaries to pay much attention to his housekeeping.

Sitting in a rare clear space on the table top was a rectangular shape covered with a white cloth.

"Er...what am I supposed to be looking at, exactly?" I asked.

He didn't answer but instead removed the cloth with a flourish to reveal a cage.

"Ta-da!" he cried excitedly.

I looked inside.

"A dead rat. Nice."

William looked horrified.

"What? Nonono..oh, damn it to Hell!"

I felt a bit cross. Umbrella wanted to keep the location of this facility secret and so it was hidden deep in the Arklay mountains. It had been a major pain getting here and now it looked as though my time had been wasted.

"If I'd wanted to see a dead rat, I could have stayed in the city. We have loads."

I spotted a pencil from the detritus on the desk and picked it up.

"You don't understand," protested William, "it was alive just a few minutes ago. I had the thing working!"

I poked the furry corpse. The rat lay upside-down, its mouth open and the eyes glazed.

The man continued talking.

"Everything was going brilliantly. It even survived the T-Virus, I don't see how it could possibly be dead."

I froze.

"You infected it with the T-Virus?" I asked, trying to feel as nonchalant as I hoped I sounded.

He ran his fingers through his hair, not improving it any.

"Of course I did, but it had no reaction at all. The treatment made it completely immune."

I quickly moved my hand away from the cage, leaving the pencil where it was, and tried not to imagine a tingling feeling in my fingers.

Umbrella was often described as a pharmaceutical company and it's true, it was. It made medicines, beauty products, all that sort of thing. But its main business was in weapons.

Bio-weapons, in fact.

They made custom-designed viruses and diseases. They manipulated genes to create mutated beasts for the battlefield. Their business was death for profit.

No wonder then that the existence of the building I was standing in was a closely-guarded secret. If the general public got wind of even some of the things being worked on in there, there'd be a national uproar.

And the T-Virus was Umbrella's pride and joy. Few were unaffected by it and for those that were, death came far too slowly.

I'd worked on it myself over the years and knew enough about the thing to know that I couldn't have been contaminated. Still, it was going to take a lot of scrubbing in the shower before I'd feel even remotely clean again.

Will heaved a sigh and sat down heavily in a chair. He looked forlorn and fed up. Taking care not to go too near the cage, I rummaged through the papers on the table. There had to be something written there that could provide salvation.

I've always been quite clever. It sounds like bragging but it's the truth. All my life I'd known I was smart, it was one of the things that set me apart from everyone else. So as I stared at a piece of foolscap, littered in badly-written jargon, I could feel my mind ticking, putting the pieces together and coming up with a solution.

I needed to, this was my future.

S.T.A.R.S. had been my idea. I had wanted to do some good in the city and it seemed like the perfect thing. An elite police force able to handle all the big stuff standard uniformed officers couldn't.

I also had an ulterior motive. The corporation was developing bigger and nastier creatures and the risk of civilian casualties was becoming ever greater. All it would take was one small accident at any of the labs and we'd have a bloodbath on our hands.

S.T.A.R.S. was put together with a view to stopping such a disaster before it happened.

But they weren't good enough. Oh, they had their skills but against some of the horrors Umbrella was coming up with, they'd be ripped to shreds.

Literally.

But this thing that William and I had been working on could have solved all of that. It was a virus that interacted with the human body, boosting its efficiency to obscene levels. In theory, a person using it would be noticeably stronger and faster than otherwise physically possible.

William and I hadn't always liked each other. He was almost, but not quite, as clever as myself and that has caused problems in the past.

But we had put that aside in the interests of developing the virus and we'd become good friends. The way things were going, though, our friendship might end up being the only thing we made that worked.

Then a small scrap of notepaper took my attention. Scribbled in pencil was a RNA sequence. It was useless in itself but it served as inspiration for my brain.

"Will.." I said slowly, still working it out in my head, "what if we linked the third stage to the human chromosomes?"

"Chromosomes?" He echoed in disbelief.

"Chromosomes!" He then repeated, his eyes lighting up as he saw where I was heading with this.

"Chromosomes." I agreed, feeling smug.

It was over five hours later that I left the building to go home. I was tired and my eyes felt sore but I was happy. We had spent the time bent over the lab equipment and it looked as though we were finally onto something. I only left because I had an annual review with one of the unit members in four hours.

I was going to need some seriously strong coffee.

* * *

><p>"Would you like another drink, Albert?" Her accent grates on my nerves and something inside of me snaps.<p>

As fast as a snake, I lunge for her, seize her by that slender neck and lift her bodily off her chair.

Or at least I try.

I manage to get her to stand but I'm unable to lift her any further.

She doesn't give me any time to think about it. A small fist is rammed into my stomach and I fall to the floor winded.

No, I'm not that badly hurt. I've had worse. But I shouldn't have even noticed it. I'm usually much stronger than this.

I'm usually much faster than this.

A small voice in the back of my head tells me that I shouldn't have any problems at all if I wanted to kill this woman. But I'm not so sure. Something is very, very wrong.

I still feel angry though and my patience has gone, burnt away in an instant.

"Where the hell am I?" I growl through clenched teeth.

She treats me to a contemptuous look and sits back down in her chair.

"Oh dear, oh dear. You mean you haven't guessed yet, Albert? You disappoint me. I thought you were cleverer than that."

I am clever. I am more intelligent than any other person in history. I have worked out what must be going on.

But I really don't like the answer that my brain has come up with.

"I'm dead, aren't I?"

A small, cruel smile is my only reply.

"Which means," I continue, "that you're either the Devil, which I doubt, or you're dead too."

A conclusion drifts into my consciousness. It leaves an unpleasant taste in my mouth but there's no escaping it. The woman can only be hanging round me for one reason.

"And I killed you." I say.


	7. Chapter 7

Ephemeral Permanence

by Ticklefish

dedicated to Barb

* * *

><p>"Ha! You kill me, man!"<p>

Vickers was almost crying with laughter. He and Speyer were sitting at the bar, a collection of empty glasses around them. I wasn't close enough to hear what Speyer had said but his gestures said everything. The movement of his arms and the positioning of his fingers clearly pointed to him telling the other man about yet another of his sordid conquests. I just hoped he hadn't manage to seduce one of the female team members.

An office romance was the last thing I needed at that point.

Morale had been a little low in the S.T.A.R.S. office. We had managed to gather enough evidence to put a somewhat unpleasant gunrunner away, only for Chief Irons to stick his nose in and claim it as a victory for the Patrol Division.

There was nothing we could do about it. Irons was technically my superior and my real superiors weren't concerned enough to do anything about it.

So I organized a team-building exercise. A little research suggested that the best way to cheer a team up is to give them lots of free alcohol. I could see that going wrong so I took everybody to a local bowling alley. S.T.A.R.S. was split into two smaller teams, Alpha and Bravo and I was pitting them against each other.

The mistake I made was going along with them.

I had no choice really. Being distant was one thing but they had to know I was on their side.

Which I was. It had been almost a year and a quarter since the unit was formed and I had grown to like the majority of them. I couldn't show it though, I had to remain the cold, aloof, tough Captain. Albert Wesker didn't 'like' people.

In truth, I didn't like all of them. Speyer was an idiot and a braggard. I felt bad for thinking it but it was the truth.

And then there was Chris.

While Bravo Team's omni man was sharing his latest tale of depravity with Alpha's impressionable pilot, Chris Redfield was making his presence known at the lane. His prowess with a gun was no fluke, his aim with a bowling ball was deadly as well. The white pins a few meters away didn't stand a chance.

Or at least, that was how it started. As he drank more beer, his skill became more erratic and our lead against Bravo was slowly evaporating.

I wasn't playing of course. Both myself and Marini, Bravo's captain and my second-in-command, were sitting it out. My idea. We weren't allowed to use our superior skills to give our side an unfair advantage.

A complete lie, naturally. I've never bowled before, never even touched a ball. And there is no way that Captain Wesker could be seen to be anything less than a expert at everything.

Time ticked slowly by.

I kept up a pretense of discussing procedures with Marini but really my attention was elsewhere the whole time.

It was squarely on Chris.

Chris in his simple, blue jeans and tight white top.

Chris whose every moment was etched onto my eyeballs in lines of fire.

I couldn't help it. I tried but I couldn't. He dominated my vision completely.

Time continued to pass and left casualties in its wake.

Burton left us, pleading that he needed to spend at least some time with his family.  
>The Chambers girl fell asleep and was taken home by Valentine, the only other female in the unit. Frost refused to let them go unescorted and went with them, no doubt to try his luck later on.<p>

Bit by bit, the unit went its separate ways. The game was essentially over. We didn't know who had won, we'd stopped keeping score a long time ago. Even I had lost track after a while, my mind on other things.

Eventually the alley closed and Chris and I found ourselves standing outside in the late night gloom. My ears were ringing from the loud music and my body felt a little stunned. It was quiet and peaceful in the street, a considerable contrast from the visual and audio assault I'd been subjected to for several hours.

"Well." said Chris.

"Well." he said again.

"Well," he tried a third time, "I'll see you at work tomorrow at work, Captain. Night night."

With care, he pulled out his car keys from his pocket, turned and walked off across the parking lot.

It's possible he didn't see the lamp-post, although it's also possible he was expecting it to move aside for him.

I walked to where he was sitting, rubbing his head. He didn't appear injured, just a little puzzled.

"I don't think you're really safe to drive, Redfield." I said, feeling a little awkward.

I hadn't drunk any alcohol. I never did. It affected me so easily, I would have been under the table before I'd finished my second beer.

Having been drunk so few times, I never knew quite how to handle people who were.

Chris held his keys out in front of him for a moment as if trying to work out what they were, then nodded.

"You'll drive me home then, Captain. Very decent of you."

With that, he stood up, more or less, and staggered to the corner of the lot where I'd left my car.

"Wait, you..." I started, but it was too late.

I stooped to pick up the keys from where they had fallen onto the floor and set off after him.

As it turned out, my worries about Chris being ill in my car were unfounded. He was drunk, there could have been no mistaking that, but he was a peaceful drunk. He'd wound the window down and sat watching the scenery go by and quietly humming along to the radio.

Which was just as well really as I needed all of my concentration. The neighborhood where Chris lived had very little in the way of streetlighting. The residents were responsible, they claimed it gave them a better view of the stars.

The stars weren't out that night, the sky was cloudy and I was wearing sunglasses. I've never driven so carefully since getting my license.

Eventually we pulled up in front of Chris's apartment building, I put the car into PARK and flexed my fingers.

The drive had sobered Chris up a litle and he thanked me for the lift and made to leave.

"Redfield, wait." I said.

He turned to me, an odd expression on his face and I gestured at his buckle.

"You're still strapped in." I pointed out.

It was obvious that he would have struggled with the catch so, rather than watch him fumble, I reached over and undid it myself. As I did so, he seemed to be making his mind up about something.

"Sir," his voice was cautious, "can I ask you a question?"

I sat back in my seat and assumed my most serious Captain face.

"Proceed."

"What do you look like without your shades on?"

That took me by surprise. I'm not sure what I had been expecting but it certainly wasn't that. The sunglasses were part of me, they were part of the look. No-one, and I mean no-one, was allowed to see me without them on. I drew in breath to berate the man for his insubordination.

I slowly let the breath go, reached up, closed my eyes and took them off. My hands were threatening to shake and I quickly hid them in my lap.

I opened my eyes to find that Chris hadn't moved. He was still looking at me, his eyes searching my face for something. After a moment, he nodded to himself and placed his hand on my leg.

"You look better without them." he murmured.

Before I could even think of a reply, he lunged forward, I felt his lips on mine and the world came crashing to a halt.

* * *

><p>Her name is Excella.<p>

She and I had been lovers for five or so years before her violent death.

Her name is Excella.

I had strung her along, pretending to like her for half a decade, purely in order to get my hands on her money. When her use had gone, I had disposed of her.

I injected her with the Uroboros virus.

I knew the virus would reject her.

I knew it would consume her.

I knew it would eat her alive.

Her name is Excella.

And I killed her.

Somehow, she's gained yet another drink and she's slowly swirling the glass round in her hand as she looks at me.

My brain, my superior brain has succeeded in its task. The answers are starting to come into my head, each revelalation hitting me harder than the next.

I'm dead.

I have failed.

Chris had won.

Everything I had thrown at him hadn't worked.

He had come for me and he had killed me.

And now here I am. I'm dead, my fate is now to spend eternity with the woman with a mocking smile sitting opposite me.

I am at the whim of the gods when I was supposed to have become one.

I have failed.


	8. Chapter 8

Ephemeral Permanence

by Ticklefish

dedicated to Barb

* * *

><p>I'd failed.<p>

I'd tried so hard to ignore my feelings for Chris, this man whose very presence sent shivers into my soul and I'd failed.

He had kissed me and instead of pushing him away, rejecting him like I should have done, I'd kissed him back.

So help me, I kissed him back.

He was my sub-ordinate, he was a man, he was inebriated.

But I kissed him back.

Our lips parted, I felt his tongue on mine and I returned every probe it made.

I should have been thinking of where we were, anybody passing by would quite easily see what was going on.

I should have been thinking of my career, my reputation.

I couldn't think of anything save for how good I felt at that precise moment.

At one point, he broke away. His eyes were sparkling and his mouth was smiling. On an impulse, I grabbed him, pulled him back to me and was lost in him again.

Eventually, we had to break, to regain our breath if nothing else. He and I sat in our respective seats. I felt numb and yet my whole body was on fire.

A voice inside me was yelling that I needed to stop. That I needed to stop right now.

That voice became quieter and quieter with every beat of my heart.

"Do you want to come in?" he asked boldly.

I didn't want anything of the kind. We had gone too far as it was. My career lay in tatters around me but I could probably regain the lost ground over time. I could blame it on the alcohol or I could say that Chris did all the work. It would hurt his career but he would recover easily enough. But me, I would be doomed if I did anything more. I absolutely could not go any further.

"Okay." I said.

His apartment was smaller than I expected. S.T.A.R.S. pays its members well. There was a small, simple kitchen, a tiny living space, a clean but functional bathroom and a single bedroom.

There was no decoration. He clearly just used the apartment to sleep in, it was very stark and impersonal. The only bit of colour was a small, framed picture of Chris and his family on his bedside table.

That night, I had a lot of opportunities to study that picture closely. I came to know every inch of the frame, every wave of the grains in the wood. From underneath the glass, four faces stared out at me.

The two adults looked proud and very much in love. A young girl was shown beaming widely, a gap showing where she had lost a tooth. And an older boy sulked off to the side. He looked every inch a person who dearly wanted to be anywhere else.

I looked at that boy as his older self made love to me.

I'd never been with a man before. I hadn't even thought about it. I'd had sexual and romantic dalliances before, but they'd always been with women. The very idea of being with a man just wasn't me. It wasn't my scene.

And yet I lay on the comforter, staring with eyes half-focused at Chris's picture as he wrapped his mouth around me. I could not have been happier.

When it came my turn to pleasure him, I returned the favor with no hesitation at all. I was not Captain Wesker, leader of S.T.A.R.S., he was not Chris Redfield, member of the same unit. We were just each other. Eventually, we weren't even that. We became one. There was no longer any chance of my career surviving what we were doing.

And I no longer cared.

* * *

><p>"So this is my punishment, is it?" I growl.<p>

"Albert..you didn't think it might be mine?"

"Yours?"

I hadn't really thought about the fact that she was down here too. I'd never really thought about her at all.

"Of course. I'm the one who took the bite out of the apple, darling. I'm just as guilty as you are."

I don't know what to say. For the first time in a very long time, I can't think of anything to fire back at her.

I want to regain control of the situation. My mental reflexes are fighting hard to think of some way to get me back on top.

But there's nothing to get back on top of.

I'm dead.

It's over.

Even the rage is lost.

And now I know why.

I know what is missing and I feel naked without it.

I'm missing the virus.

My virus.


	9. Chapter 9

Ephemeral Permanence

by Ticklefish

dedicated to Barb

* * *

><p>"Your virus, Albert."<p>

William lofted a glass cannister into the air triumphantly. The clear liquid inside swirled around innocently. It looked like nothing so much as a phial of water.

This was far more precious than mere water could ever hope to be.

"Your virus, Will."

I held a similar container next to his and we lightly clinked the glass together.

We'd done it.

After much hard work and toil, not to mention a lot of late, sleepless nights, we'd finished it. In our hands, we held the thing that would make us, that would seal our names in the history books.

We held a virus that would turn a man or a woman into a super-being. Heightened speed, heightened reflexes, heightened strength. The corporation may have been making devices of war but we had made something that would make war a thing of the past.

My life finally seemed to be turning around.

S.T.A.R.S. was becoming a public success and had long since gone beyond Irons's attempts to hide it. We were doing good in the city and the city knew about it.

Chris and I had repeated that first night many times since. I was worried he'd be funny about it but it was almost as though the alcohol had unlocked the floodgates and set him free. I had been with him at his apartment and he had been with me at mine.

We were keeping it secret from everyone else though. At work, I still had to be the big tough Captain Wesker, riding him hard to ensure he gives his best.

But after hours I..well...I rode him hard and he most certainly gave his best.

I'd long since stopped worrying about the fact that I was with a man. Chris wasn't a man as such. He was Chris and that was all.

We were very much in love and my feelings for him burned brighter with every day.

With my love-life doing well, it was only fitting that my professional life would be as well.

Will and I had solved the problem of the test subjects dying and had created a masterpiece.

There was just one problem. We didn't know if it would work on a human.

The rats we'd injected had reacted positively, although we had to gas them all to prevent any chances of an outbreak.

But humans and rats, despite some prime examples, were different species. We needed to test the thing on a human before we put it into production. It was the final stage and we had no idea how to do it.

Umbrella wasn't short of human test subjects. It was a company with very low morals and it didn't pay to question where they got the poor souls from. There was one girl in particular who was hidden away in the depths of the mansion that gave me nightmares. But we couldn't use those. If it worked, the virus would make them practically superhuman and that would cause untold complications.

So we were stuck.

We had spent all that time and effort and our reward was slipping through our fingers.

Will and I sat in our respective chairs and sulked. In front of us sat the two glass containers that were all but useless to us. If I looked anything like Will, I looked very miserable indeed.

"What do we do?" he said, not for the first time.

"I don't know." I replied, also repeating myself.

The minutes passed.

"Hell with it." Will exclaimed, slapping the benchtop. "I'll apply for a subject. It's the only way. We have to. We'll just have keep a very close eye on them."

"You can't do that. It's too big a risk. And besides you'd basically be giving it over to Vladimir," I protested, naming one of our more detested superiors, "he'd claim it for himself. This is our project. We deserve all the plaudits."

The minutes continued to pass.

Then a strange idea stole across me. It was an unusual thought, but the more I considered it, the more I realized how inevitable it was. There was only one way out of this predicament. I could imagine Will's reaction though and so I chose my next few words carefully.

"It's so frustrating." I took a spare hypodermic and drew out a dose from the nearest of the two containers. "We've gone to all this trouble, only to fall at the last hurdle. Without someone to stick this in, we've got nothing."

"Uh-huh." said Will, not really listening.

I looked down at the underside of my left forearm, made a fist and took a deep breath.

"These truly are desperate times."

"Right."

I winced as the needle bit into my flesh.

"And desperate times call for desperate measures."

"What are you talking.."

Will looked up and saw what I was doing.

"Albert!" he cried but it was too late.

Before I could change my mind, I pushed the plunger home.

I had no choice really.

I just hoped I wasn't doing anything silly.

I had only got together with Chris a few months ago. As the room went black, I realized just how badly I was going to miss him.

* * *

><p>"Have another drink, Albert."<p>

"I don't need another drink."

I notice a glass on the table.

"Have one anyway. Why not? Do you have somewhere else you should be going?"

I scowl but take hold of the glass anyway. I drain it in one swallow. It leaves a taste of aniseed in my mouth.

"You seem angry, Albert."

"Shut up, Excella."

She laughs, Her voice is clear and lound.

"Oh, Albert, you are a true delight! After all this, after that Redfield boy beat you to a standstill, you're still fighting. You just won't realize it's over, will you?

"It's not over." her words set off a small spark of resentment in me. "I'll find a way around this. I'll beat him yet. I am destined to rule this world."

She looks at me in pity.

"You're 'destined'? Albert, Albert..you will not let go. It's over, darling."

I may have lost the virus, I may have lost the thing that made me powerful, but I am still a force to be reckoned with.

I may not be as strong as I once was, but I'm still just as smart. And this tart in front of me is making me more and more annoyed with every mocking word.

"It may be over for you, Excella. Your part has been played. But I'm not done yet."

I get up to go. If this is the afterlife, there has to be a way out. I came in somehow and I will be leaving.

"You talk about destiny, Albert, but destiny has a way to play you for a fool."

Something in her tone makes me pause.

"I was destined to rule by your side." her voice is cold. "but then you betrayed me. You killed me."

Her eyes are narrowed and her body language has changed. She's angry and she's already proved she's just as fast as I am.

Or I am just as slow as her.

Despite my anger, I feel something that I haven't felt for a long time.

I feel a slight fear.


	10. Chapter 10

Ephemeral Permanence

by Ticklefish

dedicated to Barb

* * *

><p>I didn't feel fear anymore.<p>

We had busted a nest of counterfeiters the day before. It had turned nasty. They had teeth. Shiny, metal teeth that spat at us from their weapons. Our intel was poor, we weren't expecting them to have assault rifles.

However, it was their panic that eventually gave us the upper hand. We weren't scared, we moved like machines from point to point, taking down each enemy with precise, deliberate shots. I strolled across the warehouse, every step measured, my stride perfectly calculated.

I swiveled here, fired and took one man down. I turned there and took another before he could even think of reacting. It was like they were moving underwater. I had all the time in the world. My gun, previous like a lump of lead in my hand, felt as light as a feather to me. My accuracy was perfect, I was unstoppable.

We didn't kill, of course. But a bullet to the arm or the leg takes the fight out of all but the most foolhardy.

In minutes, it was all but done. Seven crooks down and secured with no casualties to my team. Only one was left, a boy of no more than 14. He stood with his back to a crate, his body shaking so badly the knife in his hand was a blur.

I strode to within a few feet of him. I was near enough that he could easily get me yet I knew I was safe. If he attacked, I could easily deal with him. He was just a child.

He looked at me, looked at my sunglasses staring back at him. I put my hands on my hips, raised an eyebrow and gave him the full power of the Captain Wesker aura.

He gave.

The knife clattered to the floor and he thrust his hands up into the air as high as they would go. His tan pants were dark around his groin and there was an acrid smell in the air. I turned my back on him and walked away. The others could cuff him. He was beneath me.

We had been taken by surprise.

They had out-gunned us.

But we had won through.

We had taken them.

I had taken them.

That night, I was with Chris, alone in his apartment and I took him too.

The virus worked.

Just three words. So simple yet the story behind them was so complex.

The virus worked.

It worked brilliantly.

I had woken up in Will's lab only a few minutes after I had injected myself. He had been given just enough time to get into a serious panic.

I wasn't panicked. There was a slight throb at the back of my head where I must have hit it on the floor but even that faded as I thought about it. My whole body felt strange, as though electric fire was racing through every cell. Everything seemed brighter, every sound seemed clearer.

For the first time, I felt truly, completely at ease.

There was no panic, no fear. Only a calm strength. It felt amazing.

William was worried, of course. He wanted to perform all manner of tests which I put up with for a while. But they proved fruitless. My body had taken the virus in like an old friend. There was not a single adverse reaction at all.

It worked.

He was still cautious, though. I wanted to introduce it to the rest of S.T.A.R.S. immediately. It was just what we needed to become the premier police unit in the country. No, the world. But Will was having none of it.

"We need to do more tests," he said over and over again, "we need to make certain it'll work on everybody. We must be careful."

I didn't agree. I felt fine. I felt more than fine. I felt like I was alive for the first time in my whole life.

But I let him have his way.

I felt so great I would have said yes to pretty much anything.

Most of the team didn't notice the difference. None of them knew me well enough, I suppose. One did though.

Chris noticed something was different straight away. I didn't tell him what it was, he would experience it for himself soon enough.

That night, our lovemaking was on a different level. Every touch of him sent me higher up the ladder than ever before. And I responded in kind. We had no sleep at all until the sun was high in the sky. Our bodies ached but we couldn't have been happier.

Finally though, we were done. I lay under the sheet, my head resting on my arm, as I watched him. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared out of the window. My apartment faced south and the sunlight shone lovingly upon his skin.

I marveled at the way the shadows cast by my blind made a pattern on his chest. He was a very handsome man, that Chris Redfield, and he was all mine.

"Where did that come from?" he asked, his gaze still on the outside world through the glass.

"Where did all what come from?" I replied coyly.

I stretched under the cover. My whole body felt alive.

"You know what I mean. You, this, everything. You've never had this sort of stamina before."

"What's wrong? Don't you like it?"

"No, of course I do." Chris replied. "It's just, I dunno, a little different, that's all."

"i didn't hear you complaining earlier." I pointed out.

"I'm not complaining. Really, I'm not. But..."

He tailed off, unsure what to say. I didn't know what to say either so we both spent a moment or two in silence, each lost in our own thoughts.

I didn't know what was going through his head, truly I didn't. If I had, I would have known what to say.

Then he seemed to come to a decision and his frown vanished, to be replaced by a smile.

"You wouldn't have heard me complaining anyway," he said with a grin, "I seem to recall my mouth was full a lot."

I couldn't help but laugh at that.

"You are very good at that, Chris. You always hit your target." I replied.

"Hey," he said, "I am the best marksman on the force, y' know."

"Want to stay in practice?" I asked and threw back the cover. I was of course quite erect.

"Oh my god!" he laughed, "You're terrible! It's lunch time, we need to eat!"

"So eat." I waved in an offhand manner at my crotch.

He didn't need much more encouragement.

* * *

><p>"You never really loved me, did you?"<p>

I'm not sure what to say to that.

I could deny it and slowly work her back around to being completely devoted to me. It would take a while but I could probably do it. Although I'm fairly certain that my having killed her might make her a bit resistant to my charms.

However, if I admit it, if I admit that my feelings for her had always been false, that gives her the advantage. She'll know something I kept from her for five years and she'll have proof that I lied to her.

I decide to stay quiet. It seems the safest course.

"I don't really know." I say.

She looks surprised which is exactly how I feel. I hadn't intended to say that, I hadn't intended to say anything at all.

"You don't know?" she asks incredulously, "How can you not know?"

She gets off her chair and stands before me, a hand on her hip. Her other hand, index and middle finger extended, is used to poke me in the chest.

"You should know. You always told me I was going to be your queen. You always told me you and I were going to rule the world together. I gave up everything for you. There were plenty of other men out there, I could have had my pick of any of them, but no, I had to stay with you. I believed you and you betrayed me. You bastard!"

I've seen her this angry before, but never with me. With my help, and the help of my gun, she had worked her way to a very high position in her company and she fought like a cat to stay there. Having that temper aimed at me is a little unnerving. She didn't dare say a cross word to me when we were alive, clearly she doesn't think me a threat anymore.

I need to regain the high ground, make her subservient to me again.

"Don't give me that, Excella. You knew exactly what you were getting into ever since we first met. Don't try to pretend you didn't, you were hardly an angel yourself. Just how much did Daddy have to pay that poor Filipino boy?"

She glowers and draws herself up to her full height, which isn't very tall. She stops poking me and her fingers curl as if she's about to claw my eyes out. I'm not worried, not anymore. She's just as easy to rile as ever. I'm in control of my emotions, I have the upper hand.

Then she slaps me, the back of her hand hitting my cheek hard enough to make it sting.

"You're a bastard, Albert, you really are." she says, turning on her heel and walking back towards her chair. "You just won't ever say sorry for anything, will you? You just won't admit you're wrong."

She sits back down and looks angrily at the floor.

My hand is still at my cheek. I have been slapped before, of course I have, and by women more attractive and more expensive than her. Yet, somehow, this hurts more. I sit back down at the table. My glass is still empty and I find myself wishing for a refill.

I feel upset and I don't know why. Excella meant nothing to me, her feelings couldn't possibly have that much effect on me. A few seconds ago, it was like I was my old self again. Strong, powerful, in control. But that slap has stunned me. I wasn't expecting it. I was expecting an attack, a verbal assault, not a slap. My cheek has recovered but I still hurt somewhere inside.

Excella sighs and looks me in the eye. Her eyes are moist and her cheeks are flushed. "I think we're done here," she says, "you're never going to change."

"I don't need to change." I don't know what I mean by that, my mouth is on autopilot.

She sighs again and picks up her drink. I look at my glass, it remains empty. Apparently the afterlife has decided I've had enough.

"I'll leave you in peace, Albert. You can do what you want." she says quietly, "Just do me one thing."

"What?" I reply.

"Tell me why you killed them. Finish your story."

I know exactly what she means and it gives me something to say.

"I didn't intend to kill them. Not at first. It was all Chris's fault."

"Why," she says, "what was wrong with Chris?"

"That's just it." I say without thinking, my thoughts elsewhere, "Nothing was wrong with him. He was perfect."


	11. Chapter 11

Ephemeral Permanence

by Ticklefish

dedicated to Barb

* * *

><p>He was perfect, he really was.<p>

He was tall, he was strong and he had a really big heart.

And an even bigger claw.

The company called him Tyrant, I called him a work of art.

He was the perfect lifeform, a human infected with the T-Virus and changed into the ultimate being.

Devoid of emotions, devoid of feelings, nothing could damage his body and nothing could hurt his soul.

He couldn't get upset, he couldn't feel pain, he couldn't cry.

I envied him.

I stood there, in the depths of the Arklay facility, staring at him floating in his container, a sleeping giant. Around me, the building was its usual hive of activity. Scientists and researchers from all sorts of disciplines busied themselves with their work. None spared me a glance. None deigned to say hello.

The Tyrant was on his own while I was surrounded by people but he and I were alike.

We were both alone.

As I was growing up, they had always told me to stay aloof, to not let people get too close to me. I was special, they said. I was above the ordinary crowd, they said. I had listened and obeyed like a good boy and now I was paying the price.

Nobody talked to me because nobody wanted to talk to me. Nobody wanted to talk to the strange man who wore sunglasses indoors. Nobody wanted to talk to Albert Wesker. Didn't you know? He's not one of us. Oh sure, he's clever and all, but he's not one of us.

That's why they let me form S.T.A.R.S. They didn't really believe I would do any good, they didn't really care. They just wanted rid of me. The more time I spent away from them, the happier they were. And the happier I was.

Until Chris had come along. Until he had stolen my heart, until he had made it impossible to spend a single hour without thinking of him.

I had thought I was happy. I had thought I had finally found the one place I truly belonged. I had thought I had found my home.

I was wrong.

Chris had dumped me. In just a few, bitterly short sentences, he had ripped out my heart, torn it into a thousand pieces and left them scattered across my office floor. There they still lay, forever mocking me.

Oh, I had tried to reason with him. I thought that, if he just saw how much he meant to me, how much we were meant to be together, then he would realize just how much of a fool he was being and change his mind.

It didn't work.

As he was about to walk out of the door and out of my life completely, I had begged him to tell me why. Why he was turning his back on a love that was clearly so perfect.

"You've changed, Wesker." he'd said without looking at me. "You're not the kind, gentle, decent person I fell in love with."

"I'm still me. I'm still that person!" I'd protested, not understanding.

At first, he didn't reply then he sighed and opened the office door.

"No," he'd said sadly, "no, you're not."

And with that, he was gone. Chris had never been one for lots of words. I'd always admired that in him and now I hated it.

The team didn't notice that anything had happened. We had tried so hard to keep anyone from knowing about our relationship that, when it fell apart, nobody noticed any difference. I had always maintained an air of cold, detached professionalism and I now hid behind it. No-one could know, no-one could see how much I was hurting inside.

Not that anyone cared anyway. They wouldn't have cared if I just stopped coming into work. I might be dead in a ditch somewhere and they wouldn't care. I didn't need them to anyway. I wasn't close to any of them, they were my subordinates, they weren't my friends. I didn't have any friends.

I thought about the folded-up letter burning a hole in my back pocket. I was being melodramatic. I still had one friend left. William was the only person I could rely on, he and I thought alike. He was the reason I was standing there, in a soulless building, gazing up at a beautiful monster that I knew I would never see again.

I was going to leave Umbrella. I was going to leave and I wanted William to come with me. Another company had approached me. They offered me better pay, better working conditions and the chance to get away from a city that had swallowed my heart and would never give it back. I would be happy again. With their support, we could finally finish our work on the virus and became the successes we'd always wanted to be.

At that, my skin crawled. Not for the first time, I felt like I had to resist the urge to rip my skin off just to try get the damn thing out of me. The virus had failed. The virus had failed completely. It had made me stronger alright but at a terrible price.

"It's going to kill you." William had said the last time we'd met.

"What?" I'd replied, shocked by his bluntness.

"The virus. The tests have come back. It's going to kill you."

He'd gone on to explain that the virus' regenerative abilities had a nasty attribute we hadn't thought of. In our rush to get the thing perfected, we'd overlooked a particular aspect of a certain genome and now I had a ticking timebomb running though me. Oh, it was fine for the most part. I was stronger, faster and much more confident, everything we'd wanted the virus to do to a person. And I would remain that way.

Until I got shot, that is.

Or stabbed.

Or severely beaten.

Or run over.

Or any one of a myriad number of things that could happen to me every day as part of my police work. If I received an injury critical enough, which was an occupational hazard, the virus would go into overdrive. It would attempt to heal the injury and would increase my strength and speed exponentially. It would make me into a real-life superman.

Not that I would have long to enjoy it before the virus completely overwhelmed my body and induced fatal cardiac arrest.

I would have a few hours at most. In my foolish over-eagerness, I had doomed myself. I had tested the virus on my own body and now it was going to kill me for my arrogance.

As a precaution, William had concocted a serum which might help the virus at bay should the worst happen. I now had the formula and a few pre-filled hypo's hidden in my flat. It wouldn't kill the virus, the only way to do that would be to kill me with it, but it should keep it under control. There was no way to know for certain though without a live test. With every day, my work with S.T.A.R.S. put me at considerable risk.

Another good reason to leave. I grew up working with Umbrella, the lab was my home and I would be returning to it soon enough. It was much safer than the streets of Raccoon. I needed out.

"What are you doing here, Wesker?"

An ugly, accented voice interrupted my thoughts, startling me out of my reverie. I had spent too long in one place, one of Umbrella's rats had found me. I turned to face him and put on my most innocent-looking smile.

"Why, Vladimir," I said, sounding more pleased to see him than I felt, "what an unexpected surprise. How long has it been?"

He glowered.

"That's 'Colonel' to you." the head of the facility said. "Answer the question. What are you doing here? This isn't where you belong."

I thought fast. My planned defection would not go down with my superiors. Vladimir had never been coy about his dislike for me and it wouldn't take much for him to make me disappear. People only ever left Umbrella feet-first.

"I had some expenses to query with Accounting and I just thought I'd come take a look at the prototype on the way." I replied, waving a hand in the Tyrant's direction. "It's quite awe-inspiring really."

The colonel glanced at the figure floating in the tube and his lip curled in a silent snarl. Too late I remembered his dislike for the project. He had always taken it to heart that he wasn't chosen as the template for the Tyrant. He'd insisted that a clone of himself would be a far better starting point. It hadn't happened and he bore a serious grudge about it.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." he growled. "You must think I was born yesterday. You could have had a bigger hand in making that thing, but instead you turned your back on it and decided to waste the company's money on playing cops and robbers instead. Awe-inspiring, indeed. The only thing that's awe-inspiring around here is how stupid you are. The truth now, Wesker. I'm not in the mood to mess about."

I swallowed nervously. It was true, I was involved in the Tyrant project, although only in a small way. It was working on the thing and knowing what it could do if it ever got loose that prompted me to start S.T.A.R.S. in the first place. Not that they would last more than a few minutes against it. That was another failure on my part and another reason to leave the city.

I tried a different approach.

"I came to see William Birkin. My police unit are proving to be a success, actually." I injected a slight touch of indignation into my voice. "He'd always said they wouldn't be and I wanted to rub his nose in it."

Well, it was almost true. I had come to see William and my team were indeed doing well. They still wouldn't have been able to put up much of a fight against the things being made here, but the city's criminal element was rapidly learning to fear them. Plus my initial rivalry with William was well known to everybody in the facility. The people who worked there didn't get out much and gossip can spread like wildfire in such a place. It was exactly the sort of story that Vladimir would believe.

His eyes glinted for a second with the prospect of a fight to liven up the day. Then he frowned.

"You'll have to wait until he comes back," he almost sounded genuinely regretful, "he's been transfered."

"Transfered?" I echoed, a leaden feeling growing in my stomach. "To where?"

"That's none of your business. I've put him in charge of an important project and now he's got proper work to do. Unlike some I could mention."

I didn't know what to say. Surely William wouldn't have left without letting me know how to get in touch with him. A call, a note, something.

Or maybe I was wrong about him. I'd thought we'd become good friends, that we'd gotten past our rivalry and stopped acting like children. I was wrong. He must have been lying the whole time. He never liked me, he was just pretending so that I would use my brains to help him.

We had worked together for hours. I had thought how nice it was to work with someone who was on the same high level as me, but all the while he must have been laughing at me. Mocking me, taking every clever idea I could come up with and claiming it for his own.

He had betrayed me, just like Chris. And, just like Chris, he had fooled me then stabbed me in the back. Well, no more. I decided then and there to trust no-one ever again. To let no-one in. From that moment, from that very second, it was me. I didn't need anybody else, I didn't want anybody else.

"You're still here."

Vladimir was looking at me with a look of puzzled disgust. I didn't really care. Not anymore. Thanks to my virus, I was stronger than he was and I already knew I was smarter. If I had needed to, I could have swatted him like the bug that he was.

"I was hoping to have a talk to you about my pay." I said. "I'm working two jobs and I'm really only being paid for one."

He went red. I would normally have run from him at this stage, terrified of his temper. But not anymore. Albert Wesker doesn't run from anyone anymore.

"You ungrateful little worm!" he shouted. "Two jobs? Two? I've barely seen you do any work round here in months and how the hell you can call whatever you're doing in the city a job is beyond me. You're given the freedom to mess around, pretending to be some bigshot captain while everyone else is doing real, important work back here and you have the gall to ask for more money?"

He leaned in close and glared at me.

"And just what would you spend it on? Huh? Umbrella pays your rent and it's not like you've got some whore to keep happy. You're a nobody, Wesker. A complete nobody. What would a maggot like you buy anyway?"

"Other companies would pay more for my skills." I tried.

"Yes? Well, why don't you try and apply for these other companies then? Let's see how far it gets you. Umbrella's spent a lot of money on you, god only knows why, and you're not going anywhere. You're not getting a cent more, you already get more than you deserve."

I started to protest but he cut me short with an abrupt wave of his hand.

"I'm done talking to you, Wesker. You've wasted enough of my time already. I have a conference to get to. When I get back, I don't want to see your pathetic little face again for quite some time. Got it?"

He didn't wait for a reply but pushed past me and headed towards the door. He went through but before the door fully closed behind him, he pushed it open again and yelled across to me.

"And take the damn sunglasses off! You look like an idiot!"

Vladimir then went back through the door and I was left still standing where I was when the conversation had started. The other staff looked at me for a few seconds longer then, realizing the entertainment was over, returned to their work.

I walked out as calmly and casually as possible, stepped out of the lab and headed straight for the john. I locked the door behind me and that's when I allowed myself to start shaking.

It had been over so quickly, so suddenly. I'd resolved myself to stand up to him, to give as good as I got, but he hadn't given me the chance.

I shouldn't have needed him to. I should have taken the chance. I'd let him control the situation when it should have been me calling the shots. I was better than he was. He was the worm, he was the maggot.

I looked at myself in the mirror. A frightened, pale face looked back at me. Pale except for a pair of sunglasses. It was ridiculous that I was wearing them. The lighting wasn't brilliant and there really was no need for them. Nobody was impressed. The 'Captain Wesker Look' wasn't working, it had never worked. I reached up to take them off, but my hand stopped halfway.

Why should I take them off? Why should I change myself to suit others? No-one was interested in me, no-one liked me. Why should I care what they think, it won't change anything. None of them had said a word just now, nobody had come to me to ask me if I was alright. Nobody cared if I lived or died.

My hand clenched into a fist as I felt a pale warmth starting to surge through me. It got hotter and hotter as my thoughts continued down their path. I had been betrayed and cheated all my life, thwarted at every turn. Every thing I'd wanted to do had failed. Not because of me, but because of other people. Other people have always let me down. Other people are worthless. I am the only decent, true person on the planet.

I could feel my heart pumping in my chest, the roar of blood loud in my body. The virus, the virus was listening to me. It knew what I wanted, it knew what I needed. As I got angrier, it fed me, it lifted me. This wasn't anger, this was rage, pure and incandescent. The virus wasn't poisoning me, it was setting me free. All my stresses and frustrations, every moment that I had to hold myself back for fear of the outcome, every time when I had been weak and pitiful, all washed away in a moment of indescribable hatred and fury.

Gradually, my pulse slowed and my breathing returned to normal. I again looked in the mirror. A man superior to all others looked back at me. I knew what I had to do. I was going to leave Umbrella. They would try to stop me and, while I welcomed their pitiful attempts as a source of amusement, it could prove annoying. I needed a distraction. Something to keep them busy while I made my final preparations

A lab just like all the others. A locked storage unit. A padlock wrenched off. A surprised voice behind me.

"Hey, what are you doing here? This is a restricted area!"

His name was Jim. I had played pool with him once or twice and he seemed pleasant enough. I snapped his neck as easily as snapping a twig and hid his body in a locker. I returned to the storage unit and took out as many vials as I could carry.

I moved throughout the building, noticed by none. I emptied half the vials into the drinking water supply and the rest into the irrigation network feeding the plants around the facility. It wasn't done at random, I knew exactly what I was doing. I had placed each of my treasures in positions designed for maximum effect. I had given myself a decent window and for a moment, I considered going back down to the Tyrant and saying goodbye. But I decided against it. I wasn't that foolish.

I left the building and walked down the long, winding path to where my car was parked. Behind me, some of the very best minds that Umbrella could afford worked diligently into the night, none of them aware of what I had done. None of them aware that I had saturated the facility with the T-Virus. Every single one of them would be dead in only a few days.

I got into my car, started the ignition and drove back into the city. I had a simple dinner and went to bed. I slept well.

* * *

><p>She looks shocked.<p>

"You killed all of them just to cause a distraction? Over a hundred people, dead just out of nothing more than spite?"

"Yes." I reply. "Although I wasn't fast enough to get Vladimir. I got him in the end though. It took a while, but I got him."

"Oh, madre de dios.."

She says nothing more. Her ever-present drink is sitting in her hand, forgotten. I've never told anyone about this before. Now that I come to say it all out loud, the usual sense of pride and satisfaction I had is gone. All I feel is a dull ache instead.

"We got the call a little while later." I continue. "Some hikers had been brutally killed in the mountains. It looked like an animal attack and the public were demanding answers. Irons knew about the facility, of course, so he put me in charge of the investigation. Just to play it safe."

She looks at me. Her voice is hollow and dull.

"You already knew it wasn't an animal attack."

"Not really. I hadn't been back up there, I had no reason to. Although It turned out it actually was an animal. Well, to a degree. Some of the B.O.W.'s had gotten loose."

"Oh."

"So I sent Bravo Team first. They died, as I was expecting. They weren't exactly the best. Myself and Alpha Team followed. I figured I might as well find out just how effective the bio-weapons were. That sort of information is very valuable to the right people. You know the rest. It turned out I did end up seeing the Tyrant again.."

I laugh and pat my stomach in the rough area that the Tyrant had run me through. The laugh is hollow, it wasn't really that funny.

"I never knew." she says. "Chris really hurt you, didn't he? Because of him, you've killed hundreds of people. You were about to kill more. You killed me."

That takes me by surprise.

"Chris? No, he didn't hurt me at all. He was.."

And then I stop. For the past ten years, I've avoided thinking about him in that way. I've deliberately not thought about the two of us and what we had together. The rage made it easy, the rage gave me something else to think on. Chris had betrayed you, the rage said. Chris had used you and discarded you when he was done, the rage said.

But the rage was gone. I no longer felt its warm embrace. I could no longer give into it. It no longer controlled me. I could think back on those times for the first time with a clear mind.

"He broke my heart." I say. "But I think..I think I broke his first."

We say nothing.

My gaze is on my hands but my mind is drifting back through the years, thinking of all that I have done. There is a lot of blood on those hands. I used to feel proud of what I was doing, like I was doing what I was meant to be doing all along.

Now I just feel a cold sense of dismay.

Excella gets up and dusts herself off.

"I've got to go, Albert." she says, a touch of sadness in her voice. "My time's up. I'm sorry."

She carefully puts her glass back on the table with a soft clink and, without looking at me, turns to go.

I make a decision, a decision I didn't even realise I'd been thinking about.

"Excella, wait." I call before she's walked more than a few steps.

She turns back towards me and I talk fast before I can change my mind.

"Excella, I'm.. I'm sorry I killed you."

It sounds pathetic and it doesn't make up for it, even slightly, but I feel it has to be said. If I am to be left alone here, it is something that I needed to have told her.

She pauses and cocks her head to one side in thought or as though hearing something I can not. Then after a few seconds, she nods to herself and extends a hand.

"Come with me, Albert." she says with a smile.

I get up and take her hand.

"Where am I going?" I ask.

"You mean, where are we going." she says, then gives a little laugh.

We leave from the table and it soon disappears behind us. She lets go of my hand and wraps her arm around mine.

"It's easier to show you.." says Excella.

And with that, we walk away.

* * *

><p>END<p> 


End file.
